Hollywood Argonauts II: Menace from Below
by TheScarletOctopus
Summary: Back from the world of myth, Jade and her friends must wage a very real war, as bizarre subterranean beings threaten to overrun the surface world.  Will their powers-and the Olympian gods' help-be enough?
1. In the Shadow of Vesuvius

**A/N: I'll try to update regularly, but I can't make any promises. (I'm actually putting off finishing a mountain of work to write this chapter – o wicked, wicked me…) In case the title didn't tip you off, I recommend that you read "Hollywood Argonauts" before diving into this story, as there are quite a few things that won't make sense otherwise.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Victorious.**_** If I did, it would be pretentious, not very funny, and watched by roughly two dozen people weekly.**

Since remotest antiquity, Mount Vesuvius has been both a boon and a danger to the peoples of the Italian region of Campania. Its many eruptions over the centuries have made its slopes some of the most fertile agricultural land in all of Europe; this was the breadbasket that made possible ancient Rome's rise from minor city-state to world imperial power. But those who live in the shadow of Vesuvius can never permit themselves to forget that the mighty volcano has unleashed untold destruction before, and may well do so again one day. Not for nothing did Virgil choose this deceptively beautiful region as the home for his portal to the underworld.

Now, all signs pointed to an eruption that would dwarf the last major one, in 1944. As the mountain rumbled and black smoke poured from its cone, panicked people hurried to their cars, to bus stations, train stations, harbors, and airports, racing to evacuate the danger zone. The beleaguered Carabinieri, Italy's national military police, fought to maintain some semblance of order, as the narrow, winding mountain roads that ran along the Bay of Naples were bottled up at every turn by trucks or overturned scooters, their drivers screaming and gesticulating at one another. Although it was October, and the height of the tourist season had long passed, there were still hordes of Americans, Britons, Germans, Japanese, and visitors of every other nationality, whose terror was only exacerbated by their lack of familiarity with the area. They thronged the ticket counters at Naples' Capodimonte Airport and waved fistfuls of Euros at the ticket agents, hoping against hope to squeeze themselves onto the last flights out before air travel to and from the area shut down completely. Every time the ground trembled beneath their feet, their tempers grew, and blows were soon exchanged.

It was hardly a display of the best of humanity, although they could well be pardoned for giving in to the powerful instinct for self-preservation. But against this chaos, the few who remained stood out all the more boldly for their incredible bravery – or, from another point of view, foolhardiness. Such a one was Padre Antonio Villati, of Amalfi. His charge was to protect his town's cathedral, a monument of astonishing beauty dating back to the eleventh century (in its exterior) and the seventeenth (in its interior); attached to it was a museum containing immensely valuable medieval chalices, reliquaries, and a bishop's miter woven from gold and silver, all of which, Padre Villati knew, would be very tempting targets for looters. But far more important was the church's crypt, where the body of St. Andrew the Apostle, obtained from Constantinople in the fourteenth century, now rested. Villati had no intention of abandoning the saint who had watched over his little town for hundreds of years. He trusted that St. Andrew would protect him; but even if it was God's will that he perish, he was willing to pay that price.

With a great burst of muscular effort, he shut the enormous bronze doors leading to the steps outside and turned the key in the lock. He was alone in the cathedral; normally at this time of day there would be at least a handful of parishioners scattered among the pews, deep in prayer, and perhaps a tourist or two gawking at the ornately decorated ceiling and the paintings in the little side chapels. Normally, he would have enjoyed the uncharacteristic stillness, as being the ideal circumstance in which to commune with the Divine, but today it had an ominous edge to it.

He had no idea whether anyone still remained in the town below, but he assumed, reasonably enough, that nearly everyone had already fled. It came as an immense shock to him, therefore, when he heard the rhythmic thudding of dozens of footsteps outside. He went to the barred window and peered out.

From the piazza below, an entire army was ascending the steps. Purple creatures, dressed in loincloths, advancing in waves, maintaining perfect order. Creatures from another world? Demons? Padre Villati could not begin to guess. Their vanguard pounded on the doors.

The priest was (understandably) unnerved, but not yet terrified. So far as he could tell, the beings were unarmed, and without siege-engines or a battering ram, they were unlikely to be able to get into the church.

After a few minutes of futile banging, the creatures withdrew and moved to either side of the portico. Someone else – some_thing_ else – was coming up the great staircase. A saddled beast, with a rider of the same species as the foot-soldiers, but dressed far more elaborately, in a scarlet cloak with gold epaulets. Their commander, he guessed.

The newcomer pulled up on the reins and halted his mount just in front of the bronze doors. He lifted his right hand, the palm of which began to glow with a swirling blue light.

The doors shuddered in their frame. The bars on the window through which Villati looked rattled. The priest jumped back, now thoroughly alarmed.

As the light intensified, the doors and window-bars began to warp and twist. _It __**can't **__be! _Villati thought. _Is he using some sort of magnetism? This must surely be the work of the Devil. Lord Jesus, Mary mother of God, and all the saints, I beg your…_

He had not yet managed to complete his thought when, with a horrific tearing sound, the window bars came loose. A moment later, the doors were ripped from their frame. The rider levitated them above his head, held them suspended for a moment, then clenched his fist – and they crumpled, like a crushed soda can, falling to the ground as a small, tightly packed bronze ball.

The commander rode into the cathedral at a slow, stately pace, his foot-soldiers thronging about him.

His steed was vaguely horse-like in its outlines, but there the resemblance ended. It was far bigger than the largest charger Villati had ever encountered, big enough, in fact, that its flanks knocked out part of the wall on either side as it squeezed through the doorframe. Its overly long head tapered to an anteater-like snout, while its elephantine legs ended, not in hooves, but in feet with long, flexible appendages, somewhere between toes and tentacles. It had no tail, no nose, and – he realized with a shock – no eyes either, only blank indentations in the face. Nearly every inch of its slate-gray body was covered in fine hairs, with the highest concentration – as long, proportionally, as cat's whiskers – around the tip of its snout. It reared and unleashed a strange, quavering cry.

Its rider locked eyes with Villati. The priest shuddered – never in his life had he seen so cold and vicious an expression. He remembered his grandfather's stories of Mussolini's Blackshirts, who reveled in violence and brutality, and thought they must have had this same look.

The being smiled, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. It was not a smile of affection, but of condescension, even contempt. And then, to Villati's utter disbelief, the creature lifted one long finger and drew it across its throat in a slashing motion.

Without realizing it, the being had made a horrible mistake. For while Antonio Villati was a man of God, and a firm believer that the meek shall inherit the Earth, he was also a longshoreman's son who had grown up in the Neapolitan slums, where weakness was fatal, personal honor was all-important, and slights were not to be left unavenged. Now that long-suppressed proud spirit took him over, and he hoisted a long iron brazier, swinging it like a baseball bat. The butt of it split the skull of one of the foot-soldiers, while the other end hit another creature in the stomach, leaving it doubled over and gasping for breath.

The commander's smile immediately turned into a grimace of mixed incredulity and rage. He gave a battle call, and the ranks of soldiers swarmed upon the priest.

Villati fought as valiantly as any man could have in such circumstances. It quickly became clear that the beings' short stature belied immense strength, but the priest's determination did not waver, even as he was forced back, inch by inch, toward the transept.

One of the soldiers drew a stone knife and slashed at Villati's chest. He dodged in time, but his movement created an opening for another opponent to punch him in the ribs. Bones cracked, and Villati bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

He was still on his feet, amazingly enough, but every blow he threw now brought him crippling pain. The alien commander seemed to sense his weakness, and, grinning once again, motioned to his men to close in for the kill.

_So __**this**__ is how I shall meet my maker. So be it. A death in defense of the house of God is a fine death indeed. _

A woman's voice rang out: "Padre! Inchinati e copri gli orecchi!" _Father!_ _Get down and cover your ears! _

There was no time to think, so, operating on pure instinct, he obeyed. An instant later, he was profoundly thankful that he had. For a young, dreadlocked black man, standing in the empty doorframe, screamed – no, that was not the right term; for a scream is born of either fear or anguish, and neither of those emotions was present in this man. Instead, the cry was pure power, supremely confident and unstoppable, sweeping all before it. Villati thought that Joshua's trumpets must have produced a very similar sound when they toppled the walls of Jericho.

A sonic shockwave raced through the cathedral. The creatures nearest the door were simply blown off their feet, sent flying into pews and pillars, as easily as if they had been caught in the path of a tsunami. Those around the crouching Padre Villati staggered, clutching their ears, from which, as the horrified priest watched, blood began to drip. The commander moaned, swayed, fainted.

The cry ceased. Before the remaining foot-soldiers could regain their senses, a lightning-fast, blurry _something_ zigzagged through the nave and aisles, downing all its opponents with one blow apiece. At the same moment, the priest felt himself lifted into the air. He turned his head to see a young redheaded girl, carrying him without any apparent effort, gliding along on beautiful white wings.

"Chi sei? Da dove vieni? Sei tu un' angelo?" He cried. _Who are you? Where did you come from? Are you an angel?_

"Huh? Did you call me Angelo? That's a _boy's _name, silly! Tee hee hee!"

Padre Villati could not understand English any more than the girl whom he addressed could understand Italian, so he simply nodded, his bafflement unalleviated.

The battle was not over yet. The enormous horse-thing, driven mad by the sonic cry, bucked and thrashed blindly, hurling its unconscious commander from the saddle. It stampeded toward the altar, crushing everything in its path. "No!" Padre Villati screamed.

"HrrrrAAAAGH!" A comely brunette leapt into the air as if shot from a catapult, her head narrowly missing the ceiling. She dropped onto the monster's back, slamming it to the ground with such force that the marble floor cracked and the entire church shook slightly. When the half-dead beast tried to raise its head, the girl threw a thunderous punch to its jaw; the priest winced as he heard the thing's neck snap.

Then all was still once more in the cathedral. The winged girl gently set Padre Villati down by the entrance. A taller, dark-haired girl in black clothing approached him, hand extended in greeting; he shook it, still somewhat dazed. The girl was clearly American, but, in what he sincerely hoped would be the last surprise he would have to face that day, she spoke to him in fluent Italian: "Are you all right, Father? You're not hurt, are you?"

"…No, no. I'm fine. Those creatures…they tried to kill me. You saved me. You saved the cathedral. God bless you all." He kissed her hand, tears filling his eyes.

The girl looked distinctly uncomfortable at this display of emotion. As soon as his grip weakened, she withdrew her hand and took a quick step back. "Glad – um – glad to be of service." She turned to a spindly, frizzy-haired boy who stood behind her at the top of the steps and said, in English, "All clear, Robbie?"

He swept the horizon with his eyes, then closed them and pricked up his ears, listening intently, and finally sniffed the wind. "I can't detect any creatures in a ten-mile radius. We should be safe for the time being."

"All right." Turning back to the priest, she slipped back into Italian: "There are no more creatures around now, but it's not safe here. You need to get away."

"And abandon my church? Leave the Apostle to his fate? Never!"

She sighed. "Okay, fine, have it your way. But stay on your guard."

/

Jade West couldn't believe she'd found someone more stubborn than Tori. Glancing very quickly into the priest's mind (Beck had gently but clearly informed her that people would regard it as an invasion of privacy if she probed them telepathically without their consent), she saw that he was completely serious.

"Jade!" André called from the side aisle. "I've got one conscious over here. You want to try to talk to him?"

Leaving the obstinate priest, who stooped to begin cleaning up the rubble, Jade went to where her friend stood over a dazed, mumbling creature.

"Can you speak its language?" André asked.

She scanned it with her thoughts. "No."

"I thought you knew _every _language now."

"I do. But this thing has a voice-box completely different from humans' – there's no way I can reproduce the sounds it makes. I should still be able to understand it, though, and maybe I can make myself understood telepathically."

André nodded and stood aside. Jade knelt and laid her hand on the creature's forehead, which was surprisingly cool to the touch.

_-Do you hear me?_

_-Yes,_ it replied.

_-Why are you doing this?_

_-Our bodies are not our own._

_-What does that mean?_

_-He controls us. He makes us kill._

_-Who?_

_-Azlon-rath._

_-I don't understand. Who is Azlon-rath? What does he gain from this destruction?_

_-I am so afraid…_

_-It's all right. We're not going to harm you. Just answer my questions, please._

_-It is not you I fear – it is he. He knows that you have touched my mind. He will not allow this to continue. He will…_

An agonizing shock ran through Jade's brain, forcing her to break telepathic contact. The being began to convulse violently. Foam dribbled from its mouth; blood poured from its every orifice. Within moments, it had ceased to breathe.

Jade and André exchanged troubled looks.

"What did you hear?"

"He's a puppet. They all are. And whoever's pulling their strings knows what we're up to."

"Then what's our next step?"

"Well, we have two choices. We can wait for more of them to show up, and keep fighting until we keel over from exhaustion; or we can take the battle to where they come from."

"And that would be…?"

Hesitantly, Jade whispered: "Hell."


	2. Sometimes It's Hard to be an Underling

**A/N: as part of my ongoing policy of completely winging it and writing each new chapter however it pops into my head, enjoy the following – an entire chapter of a **_**Victorious **_**fanfiction in which no characters from **_**Victorious **_**actually appear. Go figure.**

**Disclaimer: don't own.**

Kotna, third-degree subaltern in the Berserkers' Regiment of the Army of the Most Glorious and Eternally Unconquered Choti Empire, was scared out of his wits; indeed, only the fact that his race never wore footwear of any type prevented him from actually quaking in his boots. In the six years since his hatching, he had never before been summoned to the throne room of the High Chancellor Azlon-Rath; he had not even seen the Chancellor in person, a fact that (as he was uncomfortably aware) put him closer to the worker-drones toiling in the lower caves than to the other members of his military caste. All his hatchling-mates had long since made Heth, and a few had even reached Juth, while Kotna could not boast of any suffix whatsoever.

Then again, Kotna had no one but himself to blame for his stalled career. Membership in the military officers' caste might be a matter of birth alone, but advancement within its ranks was based entirely on achievement, and the young subaltern's accomplishments were very few and far between. When the Berserkers' Regiment led the charge that finally overcame the dreaded Ant-Beasts at the Battle of Kamyar, Kotna hung back; when the drone rebellion of a year before was forcibly suppressed, he took pains to avoid shedding fellow Choti blood. Unhappily for him, his commanding officer Torep-Heth noticed his reluctance and gave him an epic dressing-down in front of the rank and file as soon as the battle was over. "Your first loyalty is to the good of the Empire, your second to your own caste – how can you allow yourself to be weakened by sympathy for this mindless trash?" And then the worst insult any Choti could receive: "You're as useless as a surface-dweller!"

So many months later, the words still stung. He wondered whether Azlon-Rath had been informed of the incident, then remembered that it made no difference: the High Chancellor was said to be able to look into the minds of all his subjects, near or far.

_Don't be intimidated,_ he told himself as he made his way toward the throne room through a labyrinth of earthen corridors dimly lit by phosphorescent fungi. _He may be all-powerful, and he may be the first man in three thousand years to have earned the suffix Rath, but he's still just a Choti, like you. Hatched from an egg, a pupa – a mere grub – for the first weeks of his life until he shed his outer carapace, the same as every other member of the race. Not a god._

Two tall members of the foot-soldier caste stood before the deeply carved stone door that led to the throne room. Kotna summoned his nerve and tried to stride boldly past them, but they locked their ceremonial spears in an X-shape, blocking his passage.

"I…I am expected. His Magnificence has requested my presence."

"Remove your garment!" one barked. "No one may wear any marks of honor when he stands before the High Chancellor!"

"How _dare_ you speak to your superior in such a manner? I demand…I demand you let me pass…" Kotna's quavering voice undermined any authority he might have had left. The two guards simply glowered at him, unmoving, until he finally loosened the fastening of his scarlet officer's cloak and let it fall to the ground.

They lowered their spears, and the stone door slid aside. Kotna practically tip-toed over the threshold, irrationally fearful that any noise he might make would incur Azlon-Rath's anger.

The throne room proved to be even more magnificent than rumor had suggested. Hollowed out from solid rock, it was perhaps a hundred feet high, and extended back for nearly a quarter-mile, so that the throne and its occupant were nearly impossible for Kotna, still standing just inside the door, to make out. His attention was instead drawn to the forest of supports – inverted, truncated cones – that formed a vast ring in the middle of the chamber. At their center was a circular reflecting pool, its limpid water glowing with a strange, soft light that arose from its depths.

Nearly every square inch of the walls was painted, elaborate frescoes that portrayed, in summary form, the long and illustrious history of the Choti. Their origins in remotest antiquity, as small but aggressive insects with chitinous purple exoskeletons; their slow, arduous climb to sentience; the centuries of wars that racked their nascent civilization, and which ended in the establishment of the caste system by Yegha-Rath, their greatest culture hero; the grand day on which the artificial sun was first ignited, giving light and warmth to the splendid capital city of Tashkib.

Unable to help himself, Kotna gawked at these frescoes for many minutes, until he realized that Azlon-Rath was no doubt growing impatient. He advanced through the ring of cones, and paused for a moment to look down into the pool, which appeared to have no bottom; he thought, though he could not be sure, that he glimpsed the movement of long, undulating dark forms deep within the water.

As he approached the throne, a gelth, curled up on the stone floor and seemingly asleep, lifted its head and flicked its forked tongue. He froze, following the behavior that had been drilled into him since he was hatched: the creatures had an acute sense of smell, but poor vision, and consequently often failed to detect prey that remained perfectly still.

Like all Choti, Kotna loathed gelths. With their tremendous length and many tiny limbs on which they scuttled about with the swiftness of insects, their slimy bodies that secreted a toxin agonizingly painful to the touch and that could change color to blend in with their surroundings, and their perpetually gnashing jaws holding three rows of teeth, they were second only to Ant-Beasts as the most feared predators of the subterranean world. He couldn't imagine how one of the monsters had found its way into the throne room, but he knew that it was his duty to evade it and get the High Chancellor to safety – assuming he was still alive.

From the golden throne in a niche behind, shrouded in shadow, a deep and raspy voice said: "The gelth is tame, youngling. It harms only those whom I command it to harm. You may pass without fear."

It was not that he mistrusted the voice – which, he realized, must surely belong to Azlon-Rath himself – but six years of ingrained behavior was hard to throw off in an instant, and so he remained unmoving a moment longer.

The next utterance from the shadows was far louder and harsher: "Are you deaf, grub? Or have you forgotten how to walk? The gelth will not harm you – come to me now! I command it!"

Somehow, this command was more frightening to poor Kotna than the serpentine predator at his feet. With supreme caution, he stepped over the gelth. It turned its head to watch him – among the gelth's most unnerving features was an ability to rotate its head three hundred sixty degrees on its neck – but it made no hostile movement.

Even when he was standing directly in front of the niche, he could not make out any of the High Chancellor's features. After a moment, he realized that something was wrong – the shadows that concealed Azlon-Rath could not possibly have been cast by the phosphorescent light-fixtures in the high ceiling. It was as if the High Chancellor simply _willed_ himself to be cloaked in darkness.

"You see now that my word is to be believed." The voice had softened, but only slightly. "Do not forget this lesson."

Kotna immediately dropped to one knee, bent his head down, and extended his arms straight out before him, the traditional Choti posture of absolute submission. "May His Magnificence forgive this vile grub for ever having doubted him."

"Rise, youngling." Kotna did so. "I have called you here because I have need of you for a very important mission."

"Need of _me?_ Surely His Magnificence must have many more able subjects from whom he could choose…"

"Silence! Do you dare question the soundness of my judgment?"

Kotna could not stifle the whimper of fear that escaped his lips. "No. No, of course not. His Magnificence is to be trusted in all things."

The voice chuckled dryly. "How very true. Now, boy – you are called Kotna, are you not? I am told that you lack the thirst for battle that is to be expected in one of your caste."

"I…I…I can explain…" _Oh gods, help me…_

"Your cowardice is so great that it amuses me, little grub. Normally I would have such a one as you torn to bits and fed to the worker-drones, but these are unusual times, and your softheartedness may actually prove useful to me."

Kotna's throat was so dry that he could barely speak. "But h-how…"

"It seems our campaign to eradicate the ape-things and claim their surface world for our own has encountered an…unexpected obstacle. Seven of the accursed apes have shown gifts that our intelligence reports did not suggest were to be found in their inferior species. They must be dealt with, and soon."

"Of course…I shall draw my knife and cut their throats with my own hand…"

Azlon-Rath guffawed. "Even if you had sufficient courage, they would snap you in two the moment you tried such a thing. No, force is not the solution here – guile is. I want you to win their trust. Show them your accursed compassion – make them think that you have turned against me, that you wish to put an end to the war. Bring them here. Then I shall deal with them – on _my_ terms."

"Of course. The will of His Magnificence shall be done." _But…even if they are just stinking ape-beings, how can I bear to lure them to their deaths? Gods forgive me, but that is not my way. I am a soldier, not a butcher…but Azlon-Rath can hear my thoughts! Surely he will kill me now for my disloyalty!_

The young Choti shut his eyes and waited for death; but to his astonishment, the High Chancellor spoke almost mildly. "Very well. Go then, subaltern Kotna, and defend the honor of the Most Glorious and Eternally Unconquered Choti Empire. Chark-thoth will lead you to the surface."

Silently thanking all the gods for his incredible reprieve, Kotna turned to go back the way he had come. When he was almost to the pool, a stentorian cry froze him in his tracks:

"BOY!"

And much more quietly, but still clearly audible: "I shall be watching you."


	3. The Calm Before the Storm

**A/N: I've pretty much hit a wall on this story, so I may end up abandoning it after this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: don't own.**

As evening was drawing on, the group decided to postpone their expedition until the next day. Now there was little to do but wait. They sat at a little seaside café, everyone but Jade sipping red wine to calm their nerves, with only measured success.

For the time being, the tremors had subsided. The sinking sun lit the western sky pink, and the waves lazily slapped the sandy beach, just as they had done for countless millennia before; only the eerie quiet in the town itself and the absence of boats out in the bay gave any hint that something was amiss with the world.

"Pretty sunset," said Trina, her speech almost imperceptibly slurred. "Too hot, though. And too many bugs. We should've stayed indoors."

Jade noticed the older girl's hand was unsteady. "I think you've had enough for tonight. We can't afford to be hung over tomorrow." _I still can't believe __**I'm**__ being the responsible one._

"Oh, great. You sound like my mother. Can't you just relax? We're all gonna be risking our necks pretty soon – it's only fair that we get to unwind now. You should have some yourself!" Trina held out the bottle.

"Sorry," replied Jade curtly. "Gotta keep my head clear."

Jade had tried and tried to bring herself to like Trina, or at least tolerate her, but nothing worked. Even if the older girl did have her moments of compassion and selflessness, her default attitude was still one of blithe self-absorption, coupled with a dangerous tendency to overestimate her own abilities. It irked Jade, therefore, that Trina was far and away the most powerful of their group – indeed, as befitted the heir to Heracles, she was now little short of a physical god. If there were limits to her raw strength, the others had yet to find them. When they first returned home, Beck suggested Trina try to lift his RV, and she did so – with one hand. Her skin was tougher than a rhinoceros' hide, and almost nothing save for fire seemed to cause her real discomfort; on the rare occasions when she did sustain some injury, she healed with breathtaking swiftness. She, too, had a new gift which she had not possessed on board the _Argo_; she could leap incredible heights and distances, landing with the force of a meteor strike. Of course, Trina being Trina, the first words out of her mouth after discovering this were "But I wanted to be able to _fly!_"

Then again, if Trina envied Cat, it was hard for Jade to blame her. The complete freedom that the tiny redhead enjoyed soaring through the clouds manifested itself in a beatific smile that seemed never to leave Cat's face. It would almost have been unnerving, had it not been so obvious that she genuinely was that full of joy every moment of every day. Though she was bipolar, her depressive episodes had all but vanished. She could now reach speeds of at least Mach 2 in the open air, and her fingers contained retractable steel talons capable of slicing through anything with ease, making her potentially incredibly dangerous; but it was all but impossible to imagine her actually growing angry enough to deploy her full arsenal. Jade's only fear now was that it might one day be impossible to coax her friend into coming back down to Earth.

Jade's momentary reverie was interrupted by a soft kiss on her neck. "What's on your mind, babe?"

"…Nothing. Just making some plans."

"That's my girl." He drew her close.

Beck no longer needed the stress of battle in order to transform; he could shape-shift into any living creature, of (so far as they knew) any size and mass, at any time, although he could only hold a single form for fifteen minutes at a stretch before the stress began to overwhelm his body. As an unexpected bonus, he had mastered the art of retaining his human form but changing the color of his skin and clothing, until he blended into any surface with the adeptness of a chameleon. He would be their scout, their spy, as they proceeded into the underworld – which meant that he would be alone much of the time, a fact that quite frankly terrified Jade. Intellectually, she was well aware that her lover could take care of himself; but she still felt an overpowering longing to stay at his side through every moment of the perilous journey. Life without him was unthinkable – now more than ever. _But how can I possibly tell him?_

Trina was about to pour herself another glass when Tori laid a gentle, but firm, hand on her wrist. "Jade's right. Time to get some rest, sis."

The elder Vega relented and set the bottle down. Jade and Tori exchanged a swift but meaningful look, that conveyed _Thank you_ and _You're welcome_, respectively, without any need for words. For all that she still gave Tori a hard time now and then, Jade was immensely thankful to have the Latina at her side as her second-in-command.

At first, everyone had thought Tori was unchanged after returning. But when she hastened to save a little girl who was about to be struck by a car on a busy highway, and there was no time to run around the many obstacles in her path, she instinctively found herself vibrating the atoms of her body at such a high speed that she passed _through_ solid metal without any difficulty. Ever since, she had worked on refining the ability, until she was equally able to dodge bullets or to allow them to pass through her harmlessly. To celebrate, she and André had Chinese food – which she obtained by running across the Pacific to Beijing. Not because André asked her to, but simply because, as she put it, she wanted to "stretch her legs".

For that matter, André had plenty of reason to rejoice on his own behalf. He had moved beyond his status as master of music alone, to become the lord of all sound, with a cry that could shatter stone. At last he could take direct part in battle – though he was just as able, if the need arose, to summon up an army of animals with his enchanting voice.

No one, though, had been transformed more than Robbie. Not that Jade would ever admit it, but she genuinely liked – or at least pitied – the shy, awkward youth, and so it warmed her heart to see that he was no longer shy and awkward anymore. _All _his senses, not merely his vision, were now heightened to incredible levels; he could hear a pin drop ten miles away, track an automobile through Los Angeles by detecting the unique scent of its exhaust, or sense micrometer-high imperfections by running his fingers over a mirror's surface. More striking than any of these changes, though, was Robbie's new flawless sense of proprioception – his awareness of his body's position in space. He still played the klutz when those not privy to his secret were around, dropping his textbooks and tripping over his shoelaces, and strangers would point and laugh heartily – never realizing that Robbie Shapiro could perform feats of agility and balance no Olympic gymnast could hope to equal. As for Rex, Robbie had donated him to the Salvation Army almost the moment he returned from the _Argo – _a sign of his newfound self-confidence. Jade hoped that somewhere that annoying block of wood was making a child happy.

Jade wished she could feel as comfortable in her new role as all her friends seemed to in theirs; and yet, she could not help but feel that she was more apart from them than ever. Where they had all had their _bodies _enhanced in sundry marvelous ways, it was Jade's _mind_ that now expanded beyond all its previous borders. She could speak every language, living or dead; remember with photographic clarity everything she experienced; instantly assess an enemy's strengths and weaknesses with just a glance.

Then there were her psychic abilities, with which she was having no easy time coping. Reading minds was one thing; that, at least, she could turn on and off, so that she wasn't deluged with thousands of accidentally overheard thoughts at every moment. But she also sensed emotional states, and this she couldn't control, no matter how hard she tried. Everyone she encountered now seemed surrounded by a telltale aura. Happiness appeared as a soft pink glow; sorrow, an icy blue; anger, a blaring red that actually caused Jade physical pain to see. She had not told anyone – not even Beck – of this particular ability (if it was to be called an ability, and not a curse); she didn't want to cause her friends alarm by revealing that they would never again be able to have complete privacy when they were in her presence.

At this moment, for all their brave banter, every member of the group was surrounded by the same sickly green energy field: fear. Tori and André for one another, Cat and Robbie likewise, Trina for herself and her sister, Beck, of course, for Jade.

If only they could have seen what Jade saw, they would have been stunned to learn that the outwardly unflappable Goth was in the grip of a more intense dread than any of them. For she alone had the lives of _three _people on her mind.

Beck.

Herself.

And their unborn child.


	4. Ill Met by Moonlight

**A/N: Since quite a few people seem to be very interested in the story, I'll try to keep it going, for a while at least. Many thanks to those who offered their encouragement and help.**

**Disclaimer: don't own.**

They were about to turn in for the night when Robbie suddenly snapped to attention, with the keenness of a bloodhound that's just caught a scent.

"What is it?" asked an anxious Jade.

"One of the creatures. On the far side of the mountain."

"Is it alone?" The last thing Jade wanted was a night battle.

Robbie focused his eyes, his incredible vision passing through layers of stone. "…Yes. And I think it's injured."

Jade mulled this news over for a moment, then came to a decision. "All right, let's check it out. Tori, are you up for a little jog?"

"You know it."

Tori took off. Negotiating the path would have been tricky even at normal speed; here there were precious few ordinary, flat streets – instead, stone staircases, some of which had been built centuries ago, connected clusters of houses and little farms that ascended the mountainside. She wished that she could have more of a chance to enjoy the scenery; as it was, all the sensory input that reached her eyes as she sped was a mottled blur of green and gray, dulled by the dark and washed out by the moonlight.

She found the being in the garden of a palatial estate near the summit. He lay amidst orange trees, whose branches hung low over him in the windless night. Tori understood little of these creatures' biology, but it was immediately apparent that he was wounded badly; aside from the scratches and cuts on his torso and legs, his breath was wheezing and shallow. She guessed he had a collapsed lung. A red cloak lay in tatters beside him.

"Hello," she said. "We'll try to help you."

The creature – Jade had said that his species was called the Choti – answered with an alarming string of squawks, guttural noises, and hisses. Instinctively, Tori drew back, thinking he was hostile – but when she saw the desperation and pleading in his eyes, she realized otherwise.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked. More squawks. _Damn it, I wish I could understand his language. I feel so helpless._

Tori remembered an offhand remark Jade had made the day before, that, if the others cried out loudly enough with their minds, she with her telepathy might be able to sense it, even without actively probing their thoughts. Seeing no alternative, she decided to try it.

_Jade!_ She silently shouted. _Jade, I need you here! Come quickly!_

For a few moments, there was no response. The creature's breathing was becoming raspier. Tori grew desperate.

Then, to her immense relief, came the now familiar sound of wings beating the air. She looked up past the trees to see Cat, bearing Jade in her arms.

"Down here!" she cried, waving.

The little redhead deposited her passenger in the grass. "Thank you for flying Air Valentine! Sorry that there was no in-flight movie! Hee hee!"

As she flew off, Jade remarked, "I love her to death, but sometimes she can be _so_ dang annoying."

"No argument there." Tori motioned to the creature. "He's pretty badly hurt. If we're going to be able to do anything for him, you'll have to cross the communication barrier."

"Well then, stand back and let the master do her work." Jade knelt and touched the creature's forehead. Tori held her breath; she knew that the last time Jade had tried this, the violent psychic feedback had left her with a migraine and blurred vision for hours.

This time, however, matters went smoothly. After a moment, Jade straightened up. "He's called Kotna. He's an officer in their warrior-caste – and a pretty lousy one, apparently. His superiors tried to have him executed, so he started a rebellion. He was injured in the struggle, and fled to the surface to seek our help."

"That's a heck of a story," Tori remarked. "Are you sure it's true?"

"I don't get any sense of deception, but…"

"But what?"

"There's a part of his mind that's – walled off, somehow. Nothing I can do will penetrate it. I don't know whether it's because of his terror, if he's trying to block out bad memories, or if there's something else going on."

"So he might be laying a trap for us."

"Possibly. But if there really is a rebellion going on underground, it would definitely be a big help to us."

"All right, chief – what's your plan?"

"Don't call me 'chief,' Vega." Jade glowered at the Latina. "I say we try to patch him up, then let him lead us down – but with caution. We can't be sure what's really going on here."

"Maybe this is a dumb question, but how_ can_ we 'patch him up'? There aren't any doctors left around here, so far as I can tell."

"Not to worry. I read three textbooks on emergency medicine when we were on the flight here."

Tori chuckled – then realized Jade was serious. Her jaw dropped. "How…how can you retain all that information?"

Jade shrugged. "Just a knack I seem to have."

"Okay, that's seriously incredible."

Despite herself, Jade blushed.

/

They brought Kotna (Tori had to remind herself that he did have a name, and wasn't just "the creature" anymore) down to the main town, where Jade performed some impromptu surgery. Fortunately, the internal biology of the Choti, despite their insectoid origins, didn't differ too greatly from that of humans, and Jade was able to repair most of the damage.

Afterward, the weary Goth stretched out on the sand. It was nearly dawn now, the first hints of morning sunlight playing on the surface of the sea. Tori sat beside her.

After a moment of silence, the Latina spoke. "So…how long have you known?"

"Known what?"

"That you're pregnant."

Jade gasped and sat bolt upright. "How the _hell _do you know I'm pregnant?"

"When Robbie mentioned there was a Choti approaching, you instinctively put your hand over your belly – to protect it." Tori grinned. "I may not be anywhere near as smart as you, but I'm still pretty perceptive."

Groaning, Jade sank back. "Oh, God. You can't tell anyone. Do you understand me? Not **anyone.**"

"Of course I won't." Tori pursed her lips. "What does Beck think about it?"

Jade didn't answer, but instead looked away, ashamed. Tori's eyes widened. "He doesn't _know?_ Why the heck haven't you told him?"

"Don't you think he's got enough on his mind as it is?" Jade was almost shouting now. "If he finds out I'm pregnant, he's going to insist that I stay here when the rest of you go underground."

"But you _should,_ Jade. It's going to be way too dangerous for a pregnant woman."

"You don't get it, Vega. I've seen it – in my dreams. You're going to face an enemy that's stronger than you've ever dreamed, and if I'm not with you, you won't survive. _Humanity_ won't survive."

Tori was about to protest, but relented. Jade's prophetic powers had never yet steered the group wrong. "…Okay, if you say so. But I don't like this. At all."

"You think I do?" Jade cried.

Tori turned to see a look of distress and pain on Jade's face. She drew the Goth to her in a hug. Startled, Jade at first resisted, but the show of affection was too touching; she embraced Tori in turn and began to weep. It was a sign of weakness, she knew, but somehow she felt that she could safely make herself vulnerable when she was with Tori.

They drew apart. "I'm only two weeks along, anyway," said Jade. "I'll still be able to fight."

"Um – if you're only two weeks along, how can you even be sure that you're-"

"I can sense it. The baby's life energy. It's only tiny now, but it's there, inside me."

"Unbelievable," Tori whispered.

/

Kotna slept. He genuinely believed in the story he had told the surface-dweller; he could not do otherwise, with Azlon-Rath's powerful influence at work in his mind. His memories had been altered, his doubts forcibly suppressed, by the High Chancellor – and not only suppressed, but imprisoned, behind the wall Azlon-Rath had erected in his psyche.

Behind that wall, too, was a terrible knowledge that would surely have driven Kotna mad had it seeped into his conscious mind – the knowledge of who, or rather what, he really was.

For Kotna, third subaltern in the Berserkers' Regiment of the Army of the Most Glorious and Eternally Unconquered Choti Empire, was not just an ordinary Choti anymore.

He was a ticking bomb.


	5. Council of the Gods

**A/N: Not entirely satisfied with this, but I wanted to update.**

**Disclaimer: don't own.**

"Come back here, you vile witch!" cried Jason of Iolchos. "My sword thirsts for your blood!"

Medea did not entirely blame her husband for his frenzy. Their two children lay dead, stabbed by her multiple times; Jason's bride-to-be Glauce, her father Creon, king of Corinth, and their palace were even now being reduced to ash in the flames that sprang from the poisoned robe Medea had sent as a wedding "gift". But then, hadn't she warned him that his decision to reject her and marry another would have disastrous consequences?

Pursued and pursuer were nearly to the top of the Acrocorinth, the great mountain overlooking the city, where Medea's dragon-drawn chariot awaited. As ever, the sorceress was prepared; king Aegeus had promised her safe haven in Athens. Now it was only a matter of getting to the chariot and taking off before Jason could reach her.

Medea had used a charm to make herself fleet of foot; she ran like a gazelle over the rocky ground. A few hundred yards behind her, Jason huffed and puffed, waving his naked blade and bellowing every obscenity he could think of. He had lost his sandals, and the thorny brambles were causing him considerable discomfort, a fact for which Medea silently thanked the gods.

Still, he was gaining ground on her. She muttered an incantation: "Nephele!" A cloud of dust swirled up from the ground and took on her form, distracting Jason. "Ah ha! You are caught, strumpet! Take that!" He slashed at the image, which promptly dissipated.

It was only a brief delay, but it was enough. Medea climbed over the edge of the summit. The two dragons were impatiently pawing the ground, snorting fire from their nostrils. She leapt into the chariot and snapped the golden reins; needing no further prompting, the beasts ascended into the air.

"Damn you to Tartarus!" screamed Jason. "May the Furies rip your flesh from your bones!"

"They'll have to catch me first!" Medea cried exultantly. "Onward, my noble steeds! To Athens!"

She looked down to the rapidly diminishing city and the two bays on which it lay. Her raving husband was just an insignificant little speck now. _How very fitting,_ she thought.

So pleased was the sorceress over her successful escape that it took her a moment to realize she was heading in the wrong direction. Athens lay due east of Corinth, but the dragons were winging their way swiftly northward instead.

She pulled on the reins, trying to turn them about. They ignored her. It was a disconcerting situation; never before had her faithful steeds been disobedient. A quaver of desperation entered her normally imperious cry. "Go east! East, do you hear me? _East!_ What's the _matter_ with you?"

They were over the rolling plains of Thessaly now. Medea slumped back in her seat, defeated, and let the reins fall slack. Obviously some power greater than she was directing her flight now.

_But if we're heading north, then that means…_

She gasped. _Oh no. Gods, no._

_Not Olympus._

As if in mocking reply to her thought, the mountain home of the gods loomed out of the clouds before her. She winced and shut her eyes against the blinding glare that emerged from Zeus' palace.

The dragons set the chariot down gently in the vast courtyard before the supreme deity's council hall. Everything here was on a scale fit for giants: the pillars of the surrounding portico, of multicolored marble, were tall as trees, the benches around the garden as long as ships. Medea had never before felt so utterly insignificant. _They're going to punish me for my infanticide, aren't they? I'm done for. Mistress Hecate, protect me…_

The doors of the council hall, titanic bronze panels, swung open with a great creak. Hermes, Zeus' herald, appeared in the doorframe. "Enter, granddaughter of the Sun. My father desires your presence."

"So I gathered," she squeaked.

She followed the god along a seemingly endless corridor, its floor and walls decorated with mosaics depicting scenes from the Olympians' history: the defeat of Kronos and his Titans; the subjugation of the many-headed monster Typhon; Athena springing from Zeus' skull; the birth of the twins Artemis and Apollo on Delos. At last they entered a cavernous room ringed by tables at which the various deities sat. In the center, on a throne of gold and ivory, the king of the gods watched Medea's progress, unspeaking.

She halted at the foot of the throne and waited for Zeus to address her, but he did not stir. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and spoke first.

"Lord Zeus, I can explain. I was wronged terribly by Jason, and I exercised my right of vengeance…"

"SILENCE," he boomed, and the hall shook. Her tongue froze in her throat.

More quietly, he continued: "I did not bring you here to punish you, child. The day will come when you shall pay in full for your crimes – but today is not that day. It is information only that I require from you."

"What…what do you need to know?"

"The chosen seven. Are they adequate for their task?"

"I believe so. I gave them greater power when I returned them to their world. But the battle will be fierce, nonetheless."

"What of their spirits?"

"They are not warriors by nature, but…"

"Yes?" Zeus coaxed gently.

She tried to put her confused feelings into words. "…I think this may actually be an advantage. Their wish is only for peace, and that wish gives them surprising strength."

"Hmmm….interesting." The god lapsed into thought. After a moment, he called out, "Brother, come forward!"

At the sound of massive footsteps, Medea whirled. An immense black shape, blurry and indistinct at the edges but vaguely humanlike, was entering the hall. As it drew closer, she realized that there was indeed a man's form at the core, but surrounded by a dark, swirling cloud. It brushed past her, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by an all-consuming feeling of sorrow, an astonishing heaviness, as if the mass of all humanity's pain and grief had been placed upon her shoulders – yet as soon as the cloud passed, the feeling vanished. There could be no mistaking who this was.

"Hades," she whispered.

The mournful god hung his head as he stood before the throne. "Forgive me, lord, that I sully the beauty of Olympus with my presence."

Zeus smiled tenderly. "Fear not, brother. You are welcome here. Persephone tells me that she is well treated by you," and he motioned to the maiden, who, this being the summer months when she was free from the Underworld, leaned on the shoulder of her mother Demeter.

A bit of the gloom that surrounded the lord of the dead seemed to lighten. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his head to look his brother in the eye. "Of what service can I be to you, my king?"

"I would hear of these creatures who threaten the world of men, the Choti," replied Zeus. "They are from your realm, are they not?"

"Nay, lord, their home is not in Tartarus. I believe that they come from…beneath it."

"What?" shouted Ares, impetuous as ever. "What nonsense is this? There is _nothing_ below Tartarus!"

"So I too believed, nephew," murmured Hades. "But in plumbing the depths of my kingdom, I discovered another world below – one over which I have no power. I can only conclude that it was exempt from the division of lots."

Medea gasped. The three mighty brothers, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, had cast lots after the fall of their father Kronos to determine possession of the universe; to Zeus went the sky, to Poseidon the sea, and to Hades the Underworld, while the earth was to be common to all. How could any part of creation not have been included in this division? What did this _mean?_

"Medea," said Zeus suddenly, and though Medea knew the god meant her no harm, she shuddered nonetheless. "You have seen these creatures in your visions. What is it they seek? Conquest? Dominion?"

"I…I cannot be sure, my lord," she stuttered. "I have glimpsed the mind of their leader, and he indeed claims to desire mastery over the surface of the Earth, but…there emanates from him an aura of pure chaos. It is as if his ultimate wish is, not the rule, but the _elimination_ of all things – an end to creation, and a return to the primeval void."

"We cannot permit such a thing to happen, Father," said Apollo, the golden glow of his eternally youthful face momentarily dimmed by anxiety.

"Indeed not," Zeus replied. He turned to Athena, who sat, as always, at his right hand, ever proud and watchful. "Daughter, you have been walking the Earth in human guise, have you not?"

"So I have. I find it an interesting form of recreation."

"You know," the king of the gods said in a wry tone, "I never gave you permission to interfere in man's affairs. You seem to acknowledge no authority save your own."

"Truly I am my father's daughter."

To Medea's amazement, Zeus began to laugh – a great, hearty guffaw that flooded the heavens with joy. "Well said. Return, then, and give the seven such aid as they may require. And as for _you,_ sorceress," and he pointed his mighty scepter at the trembling woman, "…may you have a good journey."

She relaxed. "Thank you, my lord. I shall be most relieved to see Athens."

"Athens? Oh, no, no. Not yet, child. It is _another _journey of which I speak."

"What-"

She had no time to finish her sentence before the king of gods nodded his head. Again the world shook; thunderbolts flashed about Medea, dazzling her. A thunderclap rent the sky. She crouched down, hands over her ears, praying for the tumult to stop.

At last the sunlight returned. Slowly, tentatively, she got to her feet, blinking repeatedly.

This place was not known to her. She could see curious trees with long fronds; tall buildings of brick, glass, and iron; paved streets with chariots of metal that seemed to need no horses, their comings and goings somehow governed by green, yellow, and red lights.

And, standing right before her, a bald and bearded man, colorfully dressed yet shoeless, who now cried, "Good Gandhi! Where in the name of coconuts did _you_ come from?"


	6. Cage Match

**A/N: Looking back, I realized that all the chapters save the first have been short and mostly consist of people standing around talking. By way of recompense, here's a lengthy chapter featuring people beating the snot out of each other, stuff blowing up, and a musical number. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Victorious**_**, or the **_**Aeneid**_**, or "All the Pretty Horses", or…much of anything, really.**

_Tros Anchisiade, facilis descensus Averno;  
>Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;<br>Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,  
>Hoc opus, hic labor est…<em>

-Virgil, _Aeneid_ VI.126-129

The group of seven stood before the entrance to a tunnel at the foot of a little hill not far from the ancient town of Herculaneum. This, Kotna had indicated, was the fastest route to the Choti's forward base. The purple-skinned soldier was only barely able to walk; he had one arm over André's shoulders, the other over Beck's, for support. Still, he seemed to be in good spirits; Jade had gathered from their telepathic exchanges that he was very hopeful the Argonauts' aid could tip the scales in the civil war now raging beneath the surface of the earth.

"You guys ready?" Jade asked.

"No," said Robbie.

"Nope," chimed in Tori.

"Not even close," Trina added.

"…Yeah, me neither. But we're gonna have to go in sometime. Robbie, lead the way."

"I knew you were going to say that," the frizzy-haired boy grumbled. He descended into the dark, the others, bearing torches, behind him.

They went down for what seemed like hours, through increasingly narrow passages, until the tunnel finally opened up into a vast cavern. In the total darkness, their puny flames managed only to light the way immediately in front of them.

_So what do we do now?_ Jade asked Kotna.

_I have no idea. We should have reached the base by now-_

Light blazed through the cave from globes on the ceiling high above. The little company could see clearly now – and they bristled at the sight.

There was a single exit, at the cavern's far end. Between it and them, rows and rows of Choti soldiers stood waiting, blades drawn.

"Guys? I think it's a trap," murmured Trina.

"Thank you, Catherine Obvious!" her sister yelled.

"For the last time, Vega, it's _Captain!_" Jade turned to Kotna. _Why did you deceive us?_

_I did __**not**__ deceive you!_ The Choti cried in his native tongue, both mentally and aloud, and Jade was certain, however improbable it might be, that he believed what he said.

Still, the evidence of their eyes could not be denied. The Choti army had been waiting for them.

_Tactical retreat,_ she signaled mentally to her friends. They dropped their torches and rushed in a body back the way they had come.

It was fortunate, perhaps, that Trina, having brought up the rear of their little party as they advanced, was now the leader; for Jade very much doubted that any of the rest of them would have survived what happened to her now. As the elder Vega tried to pass through the cavern mouth into the narrow passage from which they had emerged, a force-field crackled into life. Untold amounts of electricity ran through her body, blasting her backward into the cavern nearly twenty yards.

"Trina! Are you all right?" Tori cried.

"Yeah, I…*cough*…I think so…but we're not…*cough*…not getting out that way, that's for damn sure."

"Then I guess we'll have to fight," said Jade.

As her friends formed a line of battle, she assessed the enemy. There were at least a hundred infantry, divided into platoons of ten commanded by subordinate officers (of Kotna's rank, or slightly higher) who answered to three generals mounted at the rear. The foot-soldiers were supported by monstrous, tiger-like creatures that, Kotna had informed Jade, were called Drakel. They roamed about on six muscular legs, gnashing phenomenally long teeth.

Jade's hand went to her sword. Tori, noticing, immediately gave her a warning look.

_God, Vega's so annoying…but she does have a point. I can do more good as a general than a foot soldier right now._

She concentrated, forming a telepathic link with her six friends, and swiftly sketched a battle plan in their minds. _Trina, Beck – you're our heaviest hitters; take on the Drakel. Tori, Robbie, André – slow down the infantry, but try to avoid using lethal force if at all possible. Cat – attack the commanders._

Trina needed no encouragement to charge into the fray. It was almost funny to see the 5'5'' girl colliding head on with the enormous, rearing beasts – and driving them back. Much as Jade disliked the elder Vega, she couldn't help but admire the skill with which she moved, striking with elbows, knees, even head-butts.

Still, there were too many for her to handle alone – and that was where Beck came in. He had been practicing his shape-shifting constantly, and it paid off now: with a single thought, he transformed himself into a form capable of facing the monsters on equal terms – a woolly mammoth. A Drakel leaped, striking with its claws at his neck; he caught it in his tusks and hurled it across the cavern.

Meanwhile, Tori was already in motion. From her point of view, the Choti soldiers were effectively standing still, and she could strike them down however she pleased, but she still exercised great care. Although she was wielding only a short wooden staff, her every motion carried so much momentum that it might as well have been a crowbar, and she had no desire to bludgeon anyone's brains out. Instead, with almost surgical precision, she tapped the backs of her opponents' knees, knocking their feet out from under them, or struck their shoulder-blades, hurling them forward.

At such close quarters, André's sonic cry would almost certainly have been fatal, so he relied instead on his fists, feet, and staff. Despite having the least combat training of any of the group, he was holding his own; Jade was proud of him. Of course, he was helped immensely by the presence of Robbie, whose uncanny sense of balance permitted him to leap about like a bouncing ball, striking his opponents from every conceivable angle; slightly built he might have been, but his phenomenal agility – not to mention his ability to hear and smell his opponents even when they were not yet in sight – more than made up for it.

Cat, on the other hand, had yet to move.

_Did you hear me?_ Jade thought at her. _Fly over the ranks and take down their commanders in the rear. Without anyone to direct them, they'll lose cohesion._

_By 'take down', do you mean…kill?_ Cat gulped.

_Only if you have to._

The small redhead extended her talons and looked at them warily. _I'm afraid of what I might do to them. I don't want to lose control and cut them to ribbons._

Jade was desperate. Thinking quickly, she seized a nearby Choti and held him in an iron grip, then opened a pathway into his mind and linked it to Cat's. _Look. Hear. Feel what they're going through._

The two girls' minds were flooded with the unfortunate soldier's terror, his complete lack of control over his actions, his sheer helplessness.

_Do you see, Cat? We have to stop this. As quickly as possible. And only you can do that._

It took Cat a moment to recover from the shock of the images to which she'd been exposed. Finally she nodded. _You're right. They're suffering – and I don't want anybody to suffer._

She lifted off, skimming along the cavern's ceiling over the melee below. At last she reached the rear entrance to the cavern, where the three Choti generals sat on their mounts, watching the fight with undisguised pleasure and occasionally motioning their subordinates to deploy fresh platoons.

Cat dived, so swiftly that her targets never knew what hit them. Her lethal talons never came into play; instead, she beat the commanders over the head with her mighty wings, stunning them and sending them toppling from their steeds. Their bodyguards hefted javelins and hurled them at the winged girl, but she eluded their every attempt without difficulty, and the spear-tips collided harmlessly with the rock wall behind her.

As Jade had predicted, the Choti army fell into confusion. The subordinate officers looked to one another for orders; their troops were giving way. _I think we've done it!_

A fresh wave of soldiers poured into the cavern. Fifteen Drakel followed on their heels.

_Why do I keep tempting fate like that?_

"Jesus, is there any _end _to these guys?" André cried. He and Robbie were beginning to weary. Tori, too, was slowing down perceptibly, forcing her to swing harder and harder to make her blows felt.

Beck was almost at his time limit. His great bulk began to shimmer and waver as he could no longer maintain his form. Trina realized this and increased the force of her blows, hoping to finish the fight before Beck gave out entirely, but every time she successfully downed a Drakel, another took its place and lashed out at her with fresh fury. Cat returned to the fray and slashed the beasts' backs with her own claws, but they were incredibly resilient, and refused to succumb.

Jade could no longer stand by and watch. She unsheathed her sword and, with a terrible cry, rushed in, hacking and slashing with abandon. In her frenzy, she completely forgot Kotna.

The young Choti's wounds were aching terribly, and he wanted only to rest. As he shut his eyes, however, a searing throb tore through his mind, blotting out all conscious thought. It was as though his brain were trying to rip open his skull and escape. He screamed, but in the tumult no one heard save Robbie, who was too busy fighting for his life to take much notice.

Azlon-Rath's voice echoed in his skull. _Time for you to do your job, grub._

Suddenly the dam on his memories was broken, and he recalled the meeting in the throne room. _But I…I led them into a trap, just as His Magnificence wished. My task is already done._

_You only obeyed my command because I suppressed your memories. At your core you are a traitor, third subaltern Kotna – a fool, and a weakling. How ironic, then, that you will be the instrument of the ape-things' destruction._

_I don't want to…_

As the High Chancellor's telepathic command triggered the latent biochemical alterations he had made to Kotna, the Choti's body began to change. His chest expanded. His jaws widened and new rows of teeth emerged, causing him agonizing pain. The muscles of his arms and legs swelled to grotesque proportions. The very structure of his bones was altered, hardened to solid steel. At the same time, his cerebral cortex began to shrink, swiftly dwindling away to almost nothing. No longer a sentient being, he was a muscle-bound, raving monster.

Even as she parried one enemy's blow and stabbed another in the chest, Jade sensed telepathically her new friend's distress. As soon as she had beaten off all her nearby foes, she turned to check on him – and gaped in horror. "What did they _do_ to you?"

He made no answer except a hideous barking. Foam dripped from the corners of his mouth.

_He's going to kill us all,_ Jade realized. _Turned into a living weapon, against his will._

_Their High Chancellor really doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself, does he?_

Her thought was immediately proven true, as the thing that had been Kotna lashed out wildly, making no discrimination between friend and foe. It struck the heads clean off two unfortunate Choti, then backhanded André, sending him sprawling. Robbie launched a desperate leaping attack, landed on the creature's shoulders, and struck at his neck, but was immediately thrown off as the creature began to buck like a bull.

Tori, though all but exhausted now, charged. She landed three staff blows square to the creature's solar plexus, but to no effect. It raised a mighty fist to crush her skull.

"Hey! Ugly! Over here!" Jade screamed.

She very much doubted that the thing could understand her words, but it seemed to sense the provocative intent behind them, and, ignoring Tori, advanced on Jade instead.

The Goth was terrified out of her wits, but she had no intention of backing down. With her computer-like mind, she scanned the thing for weaknesses. _The center of its chest is soft – no bony plate to deflect a blow. That's where I should strike. _She leveled her blade.

"Jade, don't! Don't kill it!" cried Robbie, who still lay half-dazed on the floor.

"I don't want to, but I don't have a choice!"

"No! You don't understand! I can see into his chest – there's a concealed explosive! If you stab him, the whole cavern will go up!"

"Shit," she muttered. Azlon-Rath had outmaneuvered her with all the skill of a chess grandmaster. If she did nothing, the Kotna-thing would slaughter every living creature within its reach, including her and her friends; if she struck, death for them all was every bit as certain.

There was only one option left: try to talk this rampaging beast down.

_Or maybe __**sing**__ it down…_

"Hey, André! Know any good lullabies?"

"Um, yeah, I guess…but I don't have my lyre! Or my keyboard!"

"You'll be fine. Cat and…" She swallowed her distaste. "…Cat and Vega will sing with you."

"What about you?"

"I'm thinking you may need a power boost to get through to him, so I'll generate a telepathic carrier wave to back you up. Understood?"

"No, not really, but I'll trust you." André grinned.

He began to croon, in a voice pure and gentle:

_Hush my boy, don't you cry,_

_Go to sleep you little baby;_

_When you wake, you shall have_

_All the pretty little horses…_

Cat and Tori harmonized, giving André additional confidence and making his song ever more effective. Jade herself had to fight off the urge to sleep.

The beast thrashed about and howled, fighting the soporific effects of André's lullaby. Rousing herself, Jade focused all her psychic energies and slowly chipped away at the defenses surrounding what was left of Kotna's mind.

Unfortunately, the remaining Choti officers had no intention of letting this process proceed smoothly. They gave a battle cry and launched a renewed attack.

Robbie fought back valiantly, but he was at the end of his rope. Beck, after swatting away a few opponents in his failing mammoth form, returned to his human shape and collapsed, utterly exhausted. If André was to have the time necessary to succeed, it was all up to Trina.

The mighty girl struck down the first rank of soldiers like bowling pins. The reserves moved up to take their place, dogpiling on her, punching, kicking, and stabbing. Their blades couldn't penetrate her skin, and their individual blows could do her virtually no harm, but their cumulative weight was beginning to exact its toll.

_A black and bay,_

_A brown and gray,_

_And a coach-and-six o' little horses…_

The Kotna-thing's rage faded. Its mouth ceased to foam, and its violent gestures lapsed into a rhythmic swaying from side to side.

Suddenly, Jade, still in telepathic contact, gasped. She could swear she had felt something of Kotna's own mind – still, somehow, intact, despite the horrific transformation he had been forced to endure. André's magic music had somehow pulled it out of the chaos that had previously swirled in the Choti's shrunken brain. And that remnant of a mind was sending out one word, a command, endlessly, relentlessly:

_Go._

_We can't,_ Jade responded. _There's no way out._

_Go. I help. I stop them. You go. Go now._

_How can you possibly…_

Slowly, with measured step, the Kotna-thing advanced toward the entrance.

_Stop!_ Jade cried silently. _You'll be killed!_

_I can last…long enough…you go…_

It – no, _he_ – stepped into the force-field. It crackled madly, its energies tearing through his powerful body, but he didn't even flinch. Jade realized that the field was weakening as Kotna sapped its strength.

"Everybody out!" she yelled. With one last supreme effort, Trina kicked away six of the Choti atop her, extricated herself from the dogpile, and fled. On the way, she scooped up the weary Robbie and Beck, holding them under her arms like sacks of grain. André, Cat, and Tori (moving at normal speed now, due to her extreme exhaustion) followed. They passed through the failing barrier on either side of Kotna, feeling nothing except a tingling.

Jade, bringing up the rear, turned and looked back. "Follow us, Kotna!"

_No. You go. I stay. I keep you safe._

His flesh was visibly cracking, his bones yielding and snapping.

_But you'll be…_

_**GO!**_

"Thank you," she whispered aloud, and followed her friends.

Just as they reached the daylight, a tremendous roar echoed through the tunnel. Kotna's death had activated the explosive implanted in his chest. Rocks and dirt collapsed in on themselves, sealing the entrance.

"He sacrificed himself…for us," panted Trina. "Why?"

"Because, even if he wasn't human," said Jade, tears in her eyes, "he was a good man."

/

They drank wine again that evening, but not in celebration – instead, they sought desperately to numb their pain. No one said a word in the swiftly gathering darkness.

Finally, Robbie, unable to bear the awkward silence, flicked on his PearPad and checked CNN. "Guys, it looks like the tremors have stopped in Italy, at least for now. Actually, most of the world is reporting a drop in seismic activity. The only exception is…"

He looked up, alarmed. "Southern California."

"Oh, God," said Jade, as all the color drained from her face. "This…all this was just a feint. Azlon-Rath wanted to draw us here so that he could attack Los Angeles without any opposition. Guys, we have to get home. Now."

"And how exactly do you suggest we do that?" snapped Tori, whom battle fatigue had made uncharacteristically irritable. "All the flights out of Naples have been cancelled. It's going to be a while before I can run at full speed again, and Cat can't go alone."

A voice came from the darkness. "Perhaps I can be of help."

"Who's there?" Jade yelled. "Dammit, Robbie, why didn't you warn us that someone was coming?"

"I didn't see or hear anyone!" the frizzy-haired boy cried.

A twelve-foot-tall, glowing shape appeared before them. "You need not blame your friend, my daughter. No mortal, no matter how keen his senses, can detect my presence until I wish him to do so."

Jade gasped.

"Athena?"


End file.
